Comfort Food
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Five times Lettuce and Keiichiro get closer over a meal, and one time they connect over something else entirely. Written for Essence of Gold.


Comfort Food

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Tokyo Mew Mew

Copyright: Reiko Yoshida, Mia Ikumi

(Note: "_Yobisute_" means to address someone with the wrong honorific.)

_1. Parfait_

The strawberry parfaits at the Café Mew Mew may be excellent, but nothing ruins Midorikawa Lettuce's appetite like having Aya and the others pressure her into investigating the "ghost" at their school. It makes her physically ill to imagine how they would react if they knew it was her. As if she weren't enough of a loser already, with her bug-eye glasses and incurable clumsiness – now she's cursed with some kind of mutation that lets her move enormous waves of water just by thinking about it! _I'm such a freak … if they knew, they wouldn't even talk to me …_

She gets the shock of her life when the redheaded waitress dumps a parfait on Aya's head. She swallows back a hysterical giggle at Aya, who has never looked so silly in her life, even as her stomach cramps with fear on the waitress' behalf. That girl clearly doesn't know who she's dealing with.

She gets another shock when the most beautiful man she's ever set eyes on – tall and slim, immaculately dressed, his sleek brown hair tied back in a ponytail, his eyes the color of melted chocolate – emerges from the kitchen to apologize, with impeccable courtesy, on behalf of his employee. By the time he's finished, Aya and both her followers are practically drooling.

He's a Prince Charming who doesn't even need a sword. If only every dragon could be charmed into submission so easily.

_I should definitely come here more often, _Lettuce thinks, smiling into her parfait.

_2. Pistachio Pie_

The end of Lettuce's official first day as a Mew Mew is marked by a large pie with filling the same bright green as her hair, the characters for _WELCOME_ elegantly spelled out in white icing. The kindness of the gesture, considering the disaster she's proving to be as a waitress, almost takes her breath away.

"Th-thank you so much … this is … I had no idea … "

"You'd think she'd never seen a pie before," Mint remarks to Ichigo, in an audible aside, making Lettuce blush.

"It's tradition for every new member of the team,"Akasaka explains, handing her the knife with an elegant bow. "Go ahead."

She cuts up the pie with shaking hands, embarrassed by the unevenness of her slices and the way the crust crumbles everywhere, but no one seems to mind. The pastry is sweet without being cloying, subtle without being bland.

"It's delicious, Akasaka-san. Did you make this crust from scratch? And is there real butter in it?"

"Why, yes," he replies, his warm brown eyes crinkling as he smiles. "It's not everyone who can tell the difference."

"I just like cooking and baking, so … "

"In that case, we'll have to trade recipes sometime."

She turns out to be a much better as a sous-chef than a waitress, and with no one but her patient teacher to witness all her breakages and spills, they become few and far between. For the rest of her life, she will think of pistachios as tasting like hope.

_3. Chocolate Cake_

When he catches her shedding tears into her dishwater a few days after the fight at the library, she half expects to be reproved for her unprofessional behavior. After all, having watched her first love proposing marriage to another woman is her own private hurt; she has no business dragging it into the workplace.

Instead he throws down his dish towel, flings open the fridge door, and brings out a pristine, gleaming mountain of Devil's Food cake.

"I think this calls for a bit of comfort food, don't you?"

"But … but that's for the customers! You can't just – "

"They won't notice a few slices missing."

And that's how they end up together at the kitchen table, drinking tea and eating cake, as he tries to make her smile with stories of his own high school years. Since it's after hours, her fellow Mews have already gone home, and Shirogane is absorbed in his laboratory, they have one peaceful hour all to themselves.

"When I was your age," he admits, "I made cupcakes as a White Day gift for a girl I … admired very much. My classmates pushed me around and called me a fag. Including her."

Lettuce surprises herself with a burst of protective fury on his behalf. For a moment she can see him, not as the confident, polished man she knows, but as someone like her, struggling to fit into a society whose rules he still doesn't understand.

"They thought you were gay for giving a girl a White Day present? That's _illogical._"

"Tell me about it."

They clink cups, one outsider to another.

"You know, sometimes I wish I _did_ belong to the distinguished tradition of Oscar Wilde and Elton John. It would be so much easier to explain to strangers why my café is a pink castle."

She laughs out loud for the first time in days, not even thinking about Edomurasaki.

_4. Miso Soup_

Lettuce can't recall ever seeing Akasaka as shaken as he looks today. Pale, out of breath, his ponytail askew, he seems to be everywhere in the motorboat at once: wrapping towels around her and Shirogane, pouring hot soup from a thermos into plastic cups, and most importantly, directing Zakuro to steer the boat to shore as quickly as possible. She knows exactly how he feels; it was a close call today, far too close. One mistake from her in those fights with the Chimera and with Pai, and Shirogane could have died. They both could have died.

She shivers in her sea-soaked cardigan and skirt, huddling into the towel for warmth. Shirogane's already smiling, chatting with the girls as if nothing had happened. He doesn't remember being underwater. He doesn't remember that she kissed him.

Thank God, because how humiliating would that be? _Yeah, listen, kid, _he'd say,_ Next time you need to activate some Mew Aqua, try not to invade my personal space for it, okay?_ This makes the second time, counting Edomurasaki, that she's fallen for someone older. Mature, intelligent men seem to be her type – and, of course, completely unavailable. She sighs.

"Lettuce-san?"

A cup of soup appears in her peripheral vision. She closes her cold hands around it with a grateful nod to Akasaka.

"You saved Ryou's life," he whispers, dark eyes haunted by the horror of what might have been. "If you hadn't … oh, Lettuce, I don't know how to thank you."

"It's all right," she tells him, warmed as much by his words as by the coffee. Even the _yobisute_ moment, coming from the politest man she knows, is strangely comforting. He doesn't even seem aware of his mistake.

"I'm just glad he's safe," she says, then corrects herself: "That _everyone_ is safe."

_5. Cranberry Muffins_

She pads down the stairs to the laboratory, holding a tray in both hands. Even though after almost a year of working at the café, she can usually balance them one-handed, this is one load she doesn't want to risk. She nudges the door with one patent leather shoe.

"Come in," Akasaka calls.

She sidles into the room and places her tray next to the computer, where Akasaka is scanning for chimera animals. His face is ghost-white in the reflected glow of the monitor, the only source of light in the room. His smile of welcome appears forced.

"Muffins? Thank you," he says, barely looking at them – and her – before turning away.

"They're cranberry. I made them myself. I was just wondering … did I put in too much sugar? The others don't think so, but I wanted to make sure before we start serving them … "

Akasaka sighs, pushes his chair back, and takes a perfunctory bite.

"Very good, Lettuce-san. Now, if you don't mind, I'm extremely busy. Our lives could depend on predicting where the aliens will strike next."

A year ago, this would have sent her scurrying from the room. Even now, it makes her rather nervous. Still, she's not about to leave until he eats.

"I know. Only … Shirogane-san says you haven't come out for hours. Not even for lunch."

"Let me guess, he ordered you to come down here and feed me."

"Well … no." She blushes. "But I'm sure he would have, if he'd thought of it first."

Akasaka shakes his head and laughs quietly, either at Shirogane's concern or her own.

"It seems there's a conspiracy here," he says, picking up the muffin again. "I'm quite capable of looking after myself, you know."

"With all due respect, Akasaka-san … not always. You're too busy looking after everyone else."

_1. Wedding Cake_

Ten years have passed since the final battle against the Cyniclons, and two years since all seven of the former Mews and their supervisors have been together in one place. It took nothing less than Ichigo and Aoyama's long-awaited wedding, but they are all here, and apparently having the time of their lives.

As the orchestra strikes up, Lettuce finds herself alone at the table, watching the dancers, amazed at how familiar they still are in spite of so many changes.

It is a testament to Ichigo's good nature that she avoided the tradition of the bridesmaid dress, letting her four best friends choose gowns to match their coloring and figures. Mint and Zakuro are waltzing together, shimmering in blue and purple silk, so much in sync she can't even tell which of them is leading (though she suspects it's Mint). A tall and curvaceous Pudding, her blond hair in two buns, is literally dancing circles around the exasperated Ryou. The bridal couple floats by, a blur of white satin skirts and black tuxedo, Ichigo beaming like a red sunrise, even Aoyama's poker face relaxed into a soft smile as he holds her close.

And standing by the buffet table, across the room, is a tall dark stranger at whom Lettuce wouldn't mind a closer look.

_Oh my, he's gorgeous … should I get over there and introduce – is that Akasaka-san?_

As if reading her mind, he catches her eye and walks right up to her.

Even though she misses the ponytail, his new collar-length cut is very becoming, and his white tuxedo fits as if it were made for him. His lanky frame has grown a bit more solid over the years, letting him carry his height with even more dignity. And his eyes, ever so slightly lined, are kinder than ever.

"Lettuce-san … you … you look magnificent."

It's not the first compliment she's had tonight. She knows that her charteuse gown hugs her curves in all the right places, that her face is much improved by the addition of contact lenses, and that her hair – unbound from its braids and long enough to sit on – is a remarkable sight. But something about her old friend's tone makes her uneasy. Perhaps it's his hesitation, as she has never known Akasaka Keiichiro to be lost for words when complimenting a woman.

"I could say the same for you," she replies lightly, still embarrassed to be caught staring at him as if they'd never met before.

"May I have the honor?"

He bows and holds out his hand. She takes it and lets him lead her onto the floor.

Lettuce has never been much of a ballroom dancer – the basic box step is about all she can manage – but Akasaka's light, smooth touch has her spinning, dipping and changing directions in mid-step with a grace she hasn't felt since her mermaid days.

"I didn't know you could dance like this!"

"Surprised?" He dips her low, startling a laugh out of her.

"Not much. It's very you."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

They catch up to each other's lives by chatting about work (his continued work at Café Mew Mew; her partnership with the toymaker Ayano); and their friends (Mint and Zakuro's engagement; Pudding's takeover of the Fong family _dojo_; Aoyama's teaching post at the envronmental science faculty of one of Tokyo's universities). However, in spite of the small talk, this new thing she has noticed, the current of unspoken meaning underlying every word, will not go away.

_How could I have forgotten the way his fringe almost touches his eyes, or the way he tilts his head, or the sound of his voice? But I haven't noticed it for years … _

One dance, then another, and before they know it, they're out on the balcony to catch their breath. The night air is warm; somewhere a cricket is chirping. They have both run out of things to say, and the silence is getting awkward.

"I see your cake is a success," she says, falling back on culinary matters as the one thing they could always talk about. Naturally, no one but Akasaka would be trusted with the monumental task of Ichigo's wedding cake. "It's already half gone."

"Have you tried it?"

"Not yet."

"Me neither."

The melancholy in his voice, the way he stands with his arms crossed on the balcony rail, staring down into the moonlit hotel gardens instead of meeting her eyes, tells her it's not the cake he is thinking about.

"What's wrong, Akasaka-san?" she asks softly, almost afraid to break through the trivialities. It's been a long time since they talked, she realizes now – but even longer since they talked about something real.

"I can't believe you still call me that."

"Force of habit, I guess." _Please talk to me … at least look at me. _"What else would you like me to call you?"

When he does, his face is in shadow, his eyes impossible to read.

"_Keiichiro_ would be nice. After all … how long have we known each other? Ten years?"

"Keiichiro … -san?" _That doesn't sound right either. Why am I blushing? _"Please tell me what's bothering you. Is there anything I can do to help?"

He moves to face the light coming in from the doors, looking younger and more vulnerable than she can ever remember seeing him; it's as if the ten-year age difference, which once made him as remote as a different species, is slowly collapsing – leaving them on equal ground at last.

"Have you ever looked at a familiar face," he said, catching her by the shoulders and looking down at her, as if lost in her eyes. "And seen someone you hardly recognize? Someone so extraordinary, so … Have you ever been blind to something that's been staring you in the face all along?"

"Yes," she said, her mouth dry. "Tonight … with you."

"Doesn't it frighten you? That everything could change for us, after so long?"

"I think it's already changing, don't you? So why not take the chance?"

"My dear Lettuce … I couldn't agree more."

She feels like Mew Lettuce tonight, the girl who would dive into freezing water and fight monsters to save a friend. The woman who is not afraid of taking risks. It's time to step out of her comfort zone at last, and find out if this new ocean is worth exploring.

One, two, three delicious kisses later, she decides it definitely is.

"Mm, Keiichiro," she murmurs into his shirt, the name coming as naturally as if she'd used it all their lives. "You smell like caramel … it's so nice."

"If you like that, I guarantee you'll enjoy the cake."

"I'm not hungry … I mean, not for food."

She blushes at the accidental double entendre, but Akasaka smiles.

"I know exactly what you mean."


End file.
